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Thursday, September 11, 2014

Jeanetics and LBK

We've all been there. You wake up early in the morning, you don't really want to wake up but you have to. You leave the bed in a major effort of willpower for which you will reward yourself later on with sugary treats if you're poor or cocaine if you're not.

And you pull a pair of pants on, only to discover that there’s no way they’re going to fit you. Last morning this happened to me, it took me quite a while to figure out that those jeans were never mine.

They belonged to LBK.

We shared quite a few moments, and when I last saw her, her plane took off before mine, so she woke up before I did, she packed her bags before I did, and she left our room before I did.

I slept in that day, I never really liked good byes of any kind.

After packing my own bags, I had one last look at our former room and, hanging on a bedpost, I found a pair of jeans that were not mine. When, later on I told her about it, she said oh! how could I forget? She mentioned this was her favourite pair so I offered to mail it, and that alternative became more and more complicated.

In the end, it was understood I was going to deliver them, maybe, one day, as that was cheapest and safest way to preserve their magic.

Quite a few months (though not years, yet) have passed since, and we don’t talk often, for we don’t have a relationship. At least, that’s what we agreed on. I don’t like long distance relationships and neither does she. But at one point I told her I lied about something and she nearly jumped out of the Skype frame. We haven’t Skyped much since either, but when we do, she usually has a new haircut.

Lately, these jeans are very much on my mind. For a while, I kept them in storage, but lately, as I’m itching to take advantage of the Icelandair Fall Sale and my Saga Club miles, I’ve been keeping these jeans around.

Which begs the question why am I still not in a plane (or am I afraid of flying?). The story is long and encrypted.

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